Sweet Oblivion
by silentsketch
Summary: For two years, Shuuhei Hisagi has been carrying a secret inside of him. KenseixShuuhei, rated M for later chapters, yaoi.


**Long-time Bleach fan, first-time fic writer. Hope you guys enjoy and PLEASE review!**

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"In conclusion, there will be decreased patrols from each area of Seireitei to divert more people to construction processes and Rukongai patrols for the foreseeable future."

Shūhei Hisagi finished speaking and looked down at his seated captain from where he stood in front of his _shitan_ desk. Muguruma-taicho hadn't looked at Shūhei throughout his whole Lieutenant's report, as usual, but was poring over his paperwork, giving Shūhei the occasional grunt when he approved, or a furrowed brow if he was annoyed with something he'd heard. As always, Shūhei felt slightly crestfallen that his captain hadn't even deigned to look at him, but then assuaged himself that Muguruma-taicho was a busy man. In any case, Shūhei told himself, he didn't even _want_ his captain to look at him.

Muguruma-taicho gave him a soft grunt in recognition, upon which Shūhei bowed quickly and then left the office to return to his editor's desk in the Seireitei's Communication's office. He had a ton of work to do, but all his mind could do at the moment was to drift towards his captain as he walked down the adjoining corridor.

It had been two years since Aizen's defeat but much to his dismay, Shūhei's crush on his captain had refused to fade. At first he had thought it was post-battle stress: most people went through tumultuous feelings after a battle, and the one against the Arrancar had been horrendous. Shūhei had reassured himself that the guilt and shock of killing his own former captain, as well as seeing his comrades nearly dying on the battlefield had manifested itself into feelings of attachment and renewed dedication towards an authority figure. He didn't know when he'd turned into a psychologist, but it seemed plausible enough.

So, for the first six months after his new captain had been reinstated, he had allowed himself to simmer, even revel in those feelings. The joy, albeit tempered with guilt of working side by side with his idol; the quickened beat of his heart when he heard his new captain's voice from three rooms away and, to his eternal shame, the increasingly detailed fantasies his mind would concoct in the solitude of his room at night. Imagining his captain kissing him with those thin, soft lips, using his teeth to nip and bite at him all over his body and to have his legs spread apart and to be fucked by his captain, over and over, sent deep shudders of lust and shame coursing through his body as he worked his cock night after night, his release bringing him simultaneous satisfaction and frustration.

It wasn't all physical, though. It had been 112 years since he'd first encountered Kensei Muguruma, the man who had saved his life and lit a fire inside of him that he didn't even know had a place to burn. Shūhei had wanted - in fact, _still_ wanted - to be just like him: a person who used his power to protect, not to intimidate and coerce like the petty gangs and warlords that ruled over Rukongai. That day, he'd walked back to the shack he called home in a daze, and decided that he wanted to become a Shinigami at all costs. Their reunion two years ago had been somewhat of a catharsis to him: everything he'd struggled for had been worth it and more. As they spent more time together, Shūhei learned more about the man he'd so admired. Muguruma-taicho was outwardly serious, stubborn and hot-headed, but sometimes Shūhei saw glimpses of her inner character: his sarcastic humour, his inner calm and especially his caring nature, which even though it could be construed as gruffness, was primarily directed at his division. Even though his shihakusho now covered it (much to Shūhei's disappointment), everyone knew about the tattoo on his chest. Far from being let down with his captain showing normal qualities, it was actually a relief and a change from the lofty ideals Tōsen had inspired.

But at the same time, Shūhei resented his captain. He resented him for replacing Tōsen so easily; the other members of the division had taken to him after a short while, and it hurt Shūhei to admit that they got on better as a division than they ever had under their former captain. Tōsen had been quiet, solemn and worshipped from afar; Muguruma-taicho was loud, boisterous and made it a point to include all members of the division, not just the higher-seated officers. He also resented him for discarding all of Tōsen's teachings so easily. He remembered that on his captain's first day back, he'd ripped all of Tōsen's quotes, written by Shūhei himself, off the walls, something that no-one else had had the heart to do since his betrayal. His captain had said that if they feared their own sword, they'd never be able to progress and develop a better relationship with their zanpakutou.

"How can you rise without pride? How well can you protect the ones you love with swords tempered with fear?" He'd yelled as everyone had fallen silent.

Shūhei was grateful that he'd been seated behind his desk so that no-one could see his body tense with rage. How _dare_ he walk all over and decimate the teachings that had stopped him from resigning? That had lifted him out of the depths of despair after losing Aoga and Kanisawa? Was this really the man that had saved him all that time ago?

The mix of bitterness and infatuation had only intensified over the six-month period, causing him to question himself more deeply.

_Am I actually attracted to my captain?_

_Why won't these feelings disappear?_

The answer to the first question became obvious to him a few weeks later, when he happened to catch his captain leaving the indoor _onsen _on his way in after a good, hard training session. Muguruma-taicho had been wearing nothing more than a navy blue towel which stopped halfway up his thighs, and his smooth skin, flushed pink with heat and scattered with drops of water that rolled teasingly all over his well-muscled body, along with the outline of his cock curving against the material of his towel was nearly more than Shūhei could bear. After a brief bow to his captain, he forced himself to wait until he reached a shower cubicle before slamming his head against the wall and quickly jerking himself off, his pants and whimpers undetectable above the loud rushing of water. His release had shocked him; he'd never come that hard before and as he looked at his orgasm swirling down the drain, mixing with the water, he realized his attraction was beyond doubt.

However, the answer to the second question proved more difficult. He expected as he recovered both physically and mentally from the battle, the feelings would eventually go away. On the contrary, they'd only intensified. As his attraction to his captain grew stronger, so did his resentment. He wanted Muguruma-taicho to quit and go back to the Living World, but the very thought filled him with despair. He tried to refrain from the idle camaraderie that many fellow lieutenants had with their captain, but he longed to be there for his own: not only physically but as a friend, a partner, a confidante.

But most of the time, Muguruma-taicho was very brusque and reserved about his own feelings. He didn't mind yelling his thoughts about training or barking out short, gruff teachings, but he barely revealed anything about his own person. Shūhei longed to know something, _anything_ about his captain that was deeper than the superficial things he knew: that he liked hot sake but he liked whiskey even better; that when he was pissed off, his left eyelid would start twitching before he blew up; and that he didn't have a favourite colour, but he didn't particularly like red. But the fact that he even _wanted_ to know filled him with shame.

He believed that it was a mistake to have allowed himself to have those feelings in the first few months, because as he sat behind his desk in the Seireitei Communication's office, which was bustling as usual at 11am, he felt completely powerless; trapped in a hurricane with no way forward or backward.

Sighing, he picked up one of the articles at the top of the overflowing pile on his right. It was going to be a long day.

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Awww Shūhei!

Hope you guys liked it, please **review **so I know whether to continue!


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